


Masquerade

by Sinedra



Series: Snake Charmer [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asra (The Arcana)'s Route, Dancing, F/M, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fortune Telling, Kinda, Magic, Male Pronouns for Asra (The Arcana), One Shot, Tarot, The Masquerade, almost getting run over, cute fuast, cute teens being young, introductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinedra/pseuds/Sinedra
Summary: "The first time we met, I thought I would never see you again."Before the plague, before the Lazaret, before Count Lucio was killed there were two young magicians. One who was struggling to make a living and another who did not understand her own potential. This is how Asra and Maisynira met nine years ago.





	Masquerade

Fireworks lit up the dusk sky; vibrant reds and yellows across a scarlet and lilac horizon. Blooming explosively in a brilliance Maisynira had only ever observed from her bedroom window before. Now she viewed them outside her aunt’s shop, wide eyed and bouncing with excitement. Dressed in a skirt and blouse once owned by her mother. The lehenga – the skirt in her mother’s tongue - a deep sapphire threaded gold designs from her family’s homeland. The choli was gold, silk straps handing off her shoulders while the hem ended beneath her bust. Silk dupatta scarf draped over her shoulder as she stared at the night sky.

“It’s amazing!”

Her aunt was closing the shop behind her, the modest fabric wrapped tight around her waist and draped over her shoulder. Jewels draped in her dark hair. “Overly extravagant and indulgent, you mean.” She came up beside her niece. Smoothing out the young girl’s loose curls. The bursts of light making their brown skin look bronze. “There will be thousands of people, are you sure you’re ready?”

Maisynira grinned, “I’m sixteen, of course I am!”

“Remember, no straying too far. The palace is huge. And one glass of wine, no more. We will still be getting up early tomorrow.”

She groaned but nodded. “Yes Hasina.”

“I’m not going to hear about this from my sister.” Her aunt looked over her shoulder, winking at her, “at least not this year.”

Maisynira joined her side and they linked arms as they watched party-goers and carriages flood toward the palace. “Have you spoken to her about my staying for good?”

Hasina grew quiet and gently squeezed her arm. “Yes.” There was a grim finality to it, her face pulled into a frown. “Not this year Mira,” she saw the girl sulk, “just be patient, it’ll happen soon. Then you won’t have to hide.”

She was trying, but it was so disheartening to know she would have to return home. Where she couldn’t use magic, or dance in the street with her aunt, staying up drying and grinding herbs. Asking the salamander to extinguish the fire before bed. Instead of allowing her aunt to see this, she smirked and said, “You mean scaring off customers?”

They both chuckled, “Reflecting a skull in the crystal ball and making the poor man think it was Death is not a good way to keep patrons. Still, I won’t forget how he fell out of his seat and screamed.”

Maisynira stood straighter, a pleased grin replaced her false smile. “And ran right into those sailors.”

The quirk at the corner of Hasina’s lips was so familiar that she felt proud to see it. A hint of mischief so in kin to her own that even though she was often scolded, it felt like a lesson. Don’t get caught. Subtly is key. Be sneakier. “Indeed, one would have thought he’d been the one at sea for months with his weak legs.” She was about to say more when she spotted a familiar face, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Mira, I’ll be back. Don’t go on without me.”

“Don’t be too long,” she teased, “or I’ll send a chaperone!” Hasina bumped her with a girlish giggle before walking off. Watching her disappear gracefully down the street, toward the woman that made her act so childishly. Who made her happy with a glance.

Wanting to give her a private moment, she wandered around the corner. Listening to the musicians playing in the streets, joining the revels in the only way they could enjoy as there was a high-class orchestra playing in the palace. She closed her eyes and listened to the drums, someone had a flute, and lute made up the makeshift group. Despite them being down the road, she could feel the music in her bones, the drum urging her to join.

Maisynira didn’t deny its call. She spun, letting her skirt spiral around her, turning on the tips of her slippers, the small charms on her anklet chiming together. She clapped her hands and posed her arms in the barest resemblance to the traditional dances from back home. Delicate footwork followed, and she dipped and flourished more. Her own twist was the rolling of her hips, the snaps and sways she had seen from some of the dancers here. A mix of home and Vesuvia. Her own dance. It wasn’t until she felt her dupatta fall from her shoulders that she remembered the world around her.

She hadn’t gone far down the street, but she was before a stall she’d never seen before. Set up behind her aunt’s shop between it and another house. It was small and make shift, looking like it could be hastily packed. Manning the stall was a set of twilight eyes, bright with amusement.

A blush covered her cheeks as he held her scarf in his hands, smirk covering his face. She approached shyly, taking the proffered item back. “Please, don’t stop on my account.” His voice was smooth as velvet and just as soft. He looked boyish, but he was tall and slender, eyes deep and full of mystery. Of questions she didn’t realize she needed to ask and answers her soul had to hear. All framed by the fluffiest hair she’d ever seen. Mira longed to run her fingers through those snowy locks.

“Who said I did?” She retorted bravely.

“Perhaps because I stole your scarf.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. She should have been mad, but she was more amazed.

Maisynira approached the stall, picking a beautiful wooden mask from several other unique visages. Expertly carved and skillfully painted. “Did you now?” The doe in her hands stared back through empty sockets. Graceful even in her froze silver face. Still, not the mask for her. “It has been quite breezy today. Are you taking credit for the wind?”

“A fair point,” she heard the amusement in his voice, but she continued to look through bears, peacocks, and rams, “but the wind is fickle and easily manipulated. Shall I show you how?”

“How bold,” she finally looked up, finding him leaning over the table. While she struggled to hold her amusement, he did not. Feeling ashamed for being drawn in, she set the masks back and stepped away. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not impressed by coincidences.”

It wasn’t until she’d turned her back on him that he spoke. “If not coincidence, how about fate?”

“As long as that fate has me at the masquerade, then yes.” Mira shook her head with a scoff, wrapping her dupatta back around her. Ignoring the curiosity that rose from his words. “Which I should be at now. Good evening.”

“Hey, hold on-“

She ignored him and kept going, weaving through the gap between the crowd and into the street. Only to be almost run over by a ridiculously extravagant carriage: white horses, gold filigree designs, and absolutely unconcerned for the revelers abound. Falling back, feet catching the hem of her skirt as a crowd gathered to watch the foreign carriage pull up to the palace gates. No one bothered to help her, in fact, as she slowly fell, it didn’t seem as though anyone knew she was there.

Right before she hit the ground, a strong force caught her by her arms. Heaving her back to her feet and pulling her back and out of the gawkers. Breathless, she found herself once again inside the mask stall. The soft fabric of the over hang offering the illusion of privacy.

“Close call,” a smooth voice said in her ear. She quickly pulled away to find the boy, a soft smile on his face, “are you alright?”

“Fine, thank you.” She could feel her heart pounding and looked over her shoulder at the masses, her face twisting in a sneer, “Nobility or not, how rude!”

“Always trying to get somewhere fast, though usually people look before stepping into the middle of the street.”

She whirled on him with an indignant look. “I was distracted!”

“Was I that charming?”

“Not anymore!”

His laugh sent chills down her spine, annoyingly pleasant and… charming. “Well milady,” he gave a small bow, still smiling brightly, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me till the crowd leaves.”

“I’m no lady! It’s Mais- Mai. My name is Mai.”

“It suits you. Asra is my humble name.”

“Of course it suits me, it’s mine after all.” She crossed her arms and tried to look angry, but curiosity won out. Besides, he was right, she would not be fighting that crowd. “Were you lying earlier?”

He sighed, but grinned. “Your scarf came straight to my hand.”

“You swear?”

“Oh absolutely. I take full credit for the theft.” This all amused him greatly.

She bit her cheek but leaned forward. Arms crossed. “You mean with magic?”

The smirk was back, and the anger left the lines of her body. She felt his magic before she saw its affect, it brushed the edges of her mind like a soft breeze before drawing the dupatta from her shoulders as though the breeze existed beyond her consciousness. Settling in his waiting palm. Smirk fading as he saw the genuine awe in her eyes. The fascination that stole across her features.

“You’re a magician!”

“In training,” he clarified, “but no street charlatan and no half talented diviner either.” With the last comment he nodded toward the back of her aunt’s shop.

Asra startled as she snatched the scarf back and rose to the tips of her feet to try and reach his height. “Hasina is not half talented, she had no formal training! Besides she’s an excellent herbalist and makes quality potions and charms.”

He had the nerve to look ashamed. “You misunderstood, I just meant her predictions aren’t often accurate, especially using a crystal ball. It’s always going to be a fuzzy fortune at best. Vague even.”

“And you just happen to know the best form of divining?”

He smiled again and leaned back against the table with his masks. Unbothered by her crossed arms and scowl. “There is no best way, the form must fit the person. I have a good friend who can only get quality answers from runes; personally, I consult the arcana.”

“Tarot?”

A hand reached into his pocket and pulls out a deck of beautiful cards. Violet backed and painstakingly illustrated. He spread the cards out and offered them to her, she felt a tingle from the deck. The feeling almost a hum as her fingers grasped one and turned it over: A ram, upside down.

“Ah, the hierophant reversed.”

“Is that bad?”

He shook his head, sending white strands sliding across his forehead, nearly into his eyes. “Not at all, in fact what he’s saying is encouraging. Don’t settle in your beliefs, accept the good change entering your life. That maybe it’s time to break convention and question tradition.”

“Embrace change?”

“The Arcana speak clearly, are you in need of change?”

Mai looked away, wringing her hands. Clanking bangles filling the silence between them. “Desperately.” She brought bright blue eyes to a soft face and returned his smile, “I think your deck speaks true- ah!” She shrunk back with a gasp, eyes locked on his shoulder. “Uhh… y-y-your shoulder.”

He barely inclined his head, seeing the snake perched there before laughing. The serpent raising its head and pointing ruby eyes on her. “It’s just Faust. Where have you been?”

He was speaking with it? Asra seemed to be, staring expectantly at it as the snake moved its gaze from her to the strange boy before her. “Is that your pet?”

Asra gave her a wide-eyed look before shaking his head. Taking one of Mai’s hands, she tried to fight but his sad eyes stopped her. “Faust is not my pet, she’s my friend and familiar; she won’t hurt you, she’s never hurt anyone. Here.” Faust moved from his shoulder and slithered just barely up her arm, pausing and tilting her head. As if she was waiting for permission.

“O-ok.” Smooth scales brushed past her elbow, cool as water, and rested on her upper arm. Almost tickling her. Maisynira watched her lilac head, trying to slow her pounding heart. “Do all magicians have familiar?”

“Most, not all.” Faust stuck her tongue out and touched her cheek. Making her jump. Asra chuckled and pried the python off her. “She says you smell nice.”

“She speaks?” Despite how she felt, it was either entirely bogus or brilliant.

“I’m the only one who can hear her, but in our own way. Yes.” Faust raised her head again, curled in his hands. “Curious, Kitten?”

Mai scoffed, but reached brave fingers out to stroke the snake’s head. Hand shaking before fully touching the scales. “Kitten?”

“Mhm,” he grinned as Faust closed her eyes and turned her head upside down. “Jumpy, nervous, but curious passed your fears.” Mai tried to look angry, but her cheeks flushed. “Faust would really like a chin scratch if you’re up to it.”

Ruby eyes opened and looked up expectantly. With a deep breath she brought her fingers to Faust’s chin and gently scratched the soft underside and managed a smile as the python’s head drooped. “She’s very pretty, and not so scary.”

She hadn’t known him long, but the proud smile on his face made her beam. “Seems you have a new friend Faust.” His familiar didn’t move which was a pretty good indicator to her skills with scratches. “Well Kitten, your party awaits.” He flourished his free hand out behind her, sure enough the crowd had dispersed.

She turned back and watched Faust curl back up around his shoulders. “Will you be going?”

He turned his gaze to the palace, a sort of sadness in their depths. “No, Count Lucio’s parties are no place for me.” When her face fell, he gently cuffed her chin with the curve of his finger. “Go enjoy it for me, alright?”

She nodded softly, then grinned, “I’ll bring back lots of stories, perhaps something very interesting will happen.” Mischief in her eyes, his responding smirk gave her the same feeling as her aunt, a soul like her own. Someone who understood her. And they would probably never meet again.

“I look forward to hearing your adventures, in return I’ll tell you some of my own.”

“Deal.”

They shared a smile and she turned to leave then stopped. Recalling the feel of his magic earlier, Maisynira focused her eyes on her target and imagined the feel and tried to recreate it herself. Like the breeze came from her this time. The desired mask rose from the table and – though wavering – rode her magic back to her hand. Grinning, she tied the ribbon of the golden cheetah around her face. Asra’s expression was stunned before breaking into a smile so bright her chest hurt.

She flipped him a coin from the small pocket in her lehenga, smirking as he caught it deftly in one hand. “Thanks for the mask, happy masquerade.”

“Happy masquerade Mai.”

She twirled on her toes, striding back onto the street. Seeing her aunt looking frantically through the crowd. Relief filling her face as she spotted Maisynira. Every step she took filled her with excitement as the palace loomed closer the sights within so thrilling, but every step filled her with longing. A tug back to the strange boy, to a life of magic and mystery. How much could he show her, tell her? Still, perhaps that life wasn’t for her.

Besides, it was either a night of revelry the likes she could only experience once or a night of mystery the kind of which could change her life forever. Her mother always said mystery played with disappointment and broken dreams. Still, as they stepped through enormous gates, fireworks reflecting off her golden mask as she watched in breathless wonder, she couldn’t help but feel like she made the wrong choice.


End file.
